A National Book Award Finalist.
In 1915 Vahan Kenderian is living a life of privilege as the youngest son of a wealthy Armenian family in Turkey. This secure world is shattered when some family members are whisked away while others are murdered before his eyes.
Vahan loses his home and family, and is forced to live a life he would never have dreamed of in order to survive. Somehow Vahan’s incredible strength and spirit help him endure, even knowing that each day could be his last.
SOURCE: VOYA, December 2000 (Vol. 23, No. 5)
Chapter One
My name is Vahan Kenderian. I was born in Bitlis, a province of Turkey, at the base of the Musguneyi Mountains of the East. It was a beautiful city of cobbled streets and horse-drawn wagons, brilliant springs and blighting winters, strolling peddlers and snake charmers. Beyond sunbaked mud-brick houses were fields of tall grass, rolling hills, and orchards of avocado, apricot, olive, and fig trees. Steep valleys of stone climbed sharply to grassy plains and pastures, and higher still to the slopes of snowcapped mountains where every summer evening the sun set in deepening shades of red and blue.
On your way into town, you would walk on crooked sidewalks past houses so close together that a small boy could easily jump from one roof to another. Weaving your way through a tangle of pedestrians, you passed veiled women sitting on stools selling madzoon, and in shop windows you would see merchants dressed in baggy pants and vests, sipping small cups of black coffee. You smelled the lavosh bread from the bakery and stood aside as the cab driver in his two-wheeled horse-drawn cart drove by. Walking home at sunset, you would see the lamplighter carrying a torch in his hand and a ladder on his back. And as darkness fell, all the flat-roofed, tightly packed houses would become one great house where a thousand small lights burned.
As far as an Armenian from Bitlis was concerned, Bitlis was the center of the world: Her mountains were the highest, her soil the most fertile, her women the loveliest, her men the bravest, her leaders the wisest. Of course, not every Armenian from Bitlis was praise-worthy. Some drank, some begged in the street, some swindled their employers, some were vain, careless, licentious, or lazy. But, for the most part, they were a hardworking and honorable people. At least the ones I knew.
In 1915, I was twelve years old, the youngest child of one of the richest and most respected Armenians in Turkey. I was small for my age, stocky and strongly built, with curly brown hair, excellent posture, a firm handshake, and a brisk, determined stride. I walked with the confidence of a boy who has grown up in luxury and knows that he will always be comfortable, always well fed, always warm in winter and cool in summer.
My father was afraid that I lacked character and discipline. And he was right. As far as I was concerned, character and discipline were consolation prizes given to the meek, the unadventurous, and the unlucky. Mrs. Gulbankian needed character because she was a widow and lived alone. Mr. Aberjanian needed discipline because he worked twelve hours a day selling groceries. Most adults, it seemed, needed character and discipline because their lives had long ago ceased to either amuse or fulfill them. "You'll see," they would say to me with knowing smiles, as though disillusion were a law as inevitable as gravity. But I knew better. I knew that time and destiny were my allies, the twin magicians of my fate: Time would transform me into the tallest, strongest man in Bitlis, and destiny would transform me into one of the wealthiest, most admired men in Turkey. I did not know if I would be a lawyer, like my father, or a doctor or a businessman, but I knew that I would be a man of consequence. When I walked down the street, people would say, "There goes Vahan Kenderian," and I would smile or not smile, depending on my mood that day.
Unfortunately, I was an unlikely candidate for greatness—at least by conventional standards: In school I threw wads of paper at my friends Manoosh and Pattoo, spoke out of turn, fell asleep at my desk, and was generally the first one suspected whenever anything out of the ordinary happened anywhere on the grounds. Twice I had been sent home for wrestling in the halls, twelve times for skipping school, once for falling out of my chair, and once because I had given one of my teachers "a look."
"What kind of look?" my mother asked me.
"I don't know. I just looked at him."
"How did you look at him?"
"I don't know. Like this. Like I'm looking at you."
Father Ossian said I had a poor attitude.
Father Nahnikian said I was looking for attention.
Father Asadourian said I should be disciplined as often as possible, preferably with a stick.
My father gave me chores to build my character. When I forgot to do them, he would take me into the living room, sit me down, look me in the eye, and say, "What kind of man do you think you are going to be?" My father had black hair, a black mustache, and black eyes that could see through anyone or anything. He was the disciplinarian of the family, who, by example, tried to teach his children the laws of honor, integrity, and self-reliance. He was a man to whom others often turned for money or support, and he was always trying, in vain, to draw my consciousness beyond the long white wall that surrounded our property, to open my eyes to the challenges of the real world. The real world, as far as I could tell, was a terrifying place where half-dead men and women labored, bore children, grew old, grew ill, and died—a drab, inhospitable place where the grim and bitter read to one another from a book of woe. Naturally, I had no interest in that world, and no intention of ever becoming one of its citizens. In my real world, cold would always be answered with warmth, hunger with food, thirst with water, loneliness with love. In my real world, there would always be this house I loved, the laughter of brothers and sisters, uncles and cousins. In my real world, I would always belong, and I would always be happy.
My name is Vahan Kenderian. I was born in Bitlis, a province of Turkey, at the base of the Musguneyi Mountains of the East. It was a beautiful city of cobbled streets and horse-drawn wagons, brilliant springs and blighting winters, strolling peddlers and snake charmers. Beyond the sun-baked mud-brick houses were fields of tall grass, rolling hills, and orchards of avocado, apricot, olive, and fig trees. Steep valleys of stone climbed sharply to grassy plains and pastures, and higher still to the slopes of snow-capped mountains where every summer evening the sun set in deepening shades of red and blue.
On your way into town, you would walk on crooked sidewalks past houses so close together that a small boy could easily jump from one roof to another. Weaving your way through a tangle of pedestrians, you passed veiled women sitting on stools selling madzoon, and in shop windows you would see merchants dressed in baggy pants and vests, sipping small cups of black coffee. You smelled the lavosh bread from the bakery and stood aside as the cab driver in his two-wheeled horse-drawn cart drove by. Walking home at sunset, you would see the lamplighter carrying a torch in his hand and a ladder on his back. And as darkness fell, all the flat-roofed, tightly packed houses would become one great house where a thousand small lights burned.
As far as an Armenian from Bitlis was concerned, Bitlis was the center of the world: Her mountains were the highest, her soil the most fertile, her women the loveliest, her men the bravest, her leaders the wisest. Of course, not every Armenian from Bitlis was praiseworthy. Some drank, some begged in the street, some swindled their employers, some were vain, careless, licentious, or lazy. But, for the most part, they were a hardworking and honorable people. At least the ones I knew.
In 1915, I was twelve years old, the youngest child of one of the richest and most respected Armenians in Turkey. I was small for my age, stocky and strongly built, with curly brown hair, excellent posture, a firm handshake, and a brisk, determined stride. I walked with the confidence of a boy who has grown up in luxury and knows that he will always be comfortable, always well fed, always warm in winter and cool in summer.
My father was afraid that I lacked character and discipline. And he was right. As far as I was concerned, character and discipline were consolation prizes given to the meek, the unadventurous, and the unlucky. Mrs. Gulbankian needed character because she was a widow and lived alone. Mr. Aberjanian needed discipline because he worked twelve hours a day selling groceries. Most adults, it seemed, needed character and discipline because their lives had long ago ceased to either amuse or fulfill them. "You'll see," they would say to me with knowing smiles, as though disillusion were a law as inevitable as gravity. But I knew better. I knew that time and destiny were my allies, the twin magicians of my fate: Time would transform me into the tallest, strongest man in Bitlis, and destiny would transform me into one of the wealthiest, most admired men in Turkey. I did not know if I would be a lawyer, like my father, or a doctor or a businessman, but I knew that I would be a man of consequence. When I walked down the street, people would say, "There goes Vahan Kenderian," and I would smile or not smile, depending on my mood that day.
Unfortunately, I was an unlikely candidate for greatness-at least by conventional standards: In school I threw wads of paper at my friends Manoosh and Pattoo, spoke out of turn, fell asleep at my desk, and was generally the first one suspected whenever anything out of the ordinary happened anywhere on the grounds. Twice I had been sent home for wrestling in the halls, twelve times for skipping school, once for falling out of my chair, and once because I had given one of my teachers "a look."
"What kind of look?" my mother asked me.
"I don't know. I just looked at him."
"How did you look at him?"
"I don't know. Like this. Like I'm looking at you."
Father Ossian said I had a poor attitude.
Father Nahnikian said I was looking for attention.
Father Asadourian said I should be disciplined as often as possible, preferably with a stick.
My father gave me chores to build my character. When I forgot to do them, he would take me into the living room, sit me down, look me in the eye, and say, "What kind of man do you think you are going to be?" My father had black hair, a black mustache, and black eyes that could see through anyone or anything. He was the disciplinarian of the family, who, by example, tried to teach his children the laws of honor, integrity, and self-reliance. He was a man to whom others often turned for money or support, and he was always trying, in vain, to draw my consciousness beyond the long white wall that surrounded our property, to open my eyes to the challenges of the real world. The real world, as far as I could tell, was a terrifying place where half-dead men and women labored, bore children, grew old, grew ill, and died-a drab, inhospitable place where the grim and bitter read to one another from a book of woe. Naturally, I had no interest in that world, and no intention of ever becoming one of its citizens. In my real world, cold would always be answered with warmth, hunger with food, thirst with water, loneliness with love. In my real world, there would always be this house I loved, the laughter of brothers and sisters, uncles and cousins. In my real world, I would always belong, and I would always be happy.
Historic Armenia lay at the crossroads between Europe and Asia. Time after time, she was controlled by invaders-Greek, Persian, Roman, and Mongolian. In the first half of the sixteenth century, she fell to the Ottoman Turks. Officially, the Muslim Turks considered the Christian Armenians troublesome inferiors who were beneath the law. Armenians were not allowed to bear arms, found no justice in Muslim courts, and were burdened with taxes so heavy that many lost their possessions, their homes, and their land.
By 1900, one-ninth of the Ottoman Empire's population were Armenians. In the eyes of their Turkish rulers, these two million people were a threat to the government's security. They feared that the Armenians' suffering would attract the attention of European powers, which might intervene and further weaken the crumbling Ottoman Empire. To appease Europe, they promised reforms that they rarely, if ever, implemented.
In 1908, the Young Turk triumvirate-Enver Pasha, Talaat Bey, and Djemal Pasha, leaders of the Committee of Union and Progress-took power, promising an end to the brutality and injustice that had marked Turkish rule for four centuries. They created a democratic parliament that gave Armenians and all other minorities a genuine voice in the government. Constitutional freedoms were assured, old grievances buried, and, for a brief moment, Muslim shook hands with Christian.
This experiment in goodwill barely lasted two years. Members of the Committee of Union and Progress decided that the best way to halt the erosion of Turkish power and remove the threat of European intervention was by "turkifying" or, if necessary, annihilating the non-Muslim minorities and creating a new empire that would extend as far as Russian Transcaucasia and Central Asia. To achieve this, the Young Turk triumvirate gradually withdrew many of the rights they had granted to Christians and returned to a policy of Muslim superiority.
Most Armenians were unaware of the back room machinations that would soon decide their fate. The fortunate ones had never witnessed the Turkish "disciplinary" massacres in cities such as Trebizond and Sasun and Adana. Some, luckier still, had managed to prosper in Turkey and hold positions of authority. And some, mostly children, believed that their homes, their families, their friends and neighbors were inviolable. This book is based on the true story of one such child.
2. Vahan Kenderian has never known fear until the Turks come to take his father away. He says, “I wished I could go to [my mother’s] room and tell her I was afraid. But somehow I knew that I couldn’t.” (p. 22) Discuss why Vahan doesn’t feel that he can share his fear with his mother.
3. How did the attitude of the Armenian community change once the Turks took possession of the town and began the genocide?
4. Describe the Kenderian family before the Turks shatter their lives. Cite evidence from the novel that Vahan greatly admires his father. Why is Vahan considered the “black sheep” of the family? How does the memory of his father give him the courage he needs to survive?
5. Were you aware of the Armenian genocide before reading this book? What other ethnic wars have occurred since World War II?
6. How does Vahan react when he witnesses the murders of his brothers by the Turkish soldiers?
7. Vahan has several violent experiences during his journey to Constantinople. Discuss his behavior afterward. Did the graphic descriptions disturb your reading?
8. Vahan says that loneliness “transforms the heartiest of souls into a living ash of spiritual doubt and despair.” (p. 130) How does Vahan reveal his “spiritual doubt”?
9. What is Vahan’s first impression of Selim Bey? How does Vahan discover Selim Bey’s true nature?
10. Discuss what Vahan means when he says, “I knew that I was free, and that I would never be free.” (p. 270) Are there other countries today that deny freedom to certain citizens based on their ethnicity?
11. How do Dr. and Mrs. Tashian help Vahan on his journey toward a new life?
12. Think about all of the people in Vahan’s past. How does each of them contribute to his “freedom”? How does each give him courage, even in the smallest way?
13. What is the meaning of the title Forgotten Fire?
14. How does the quote from Hitler relate to the Armenian genocide?
kasper94
Posted Mon May 31 00:00:00 EDT 2010
I Also Recommend:
This is the best book I have ever read based on the war. It is very emotional to the point you will feel the tears in your eyes to put down the book. The suspense is very thrilling with death looming around in the air. This book is a book you will never forget once it is back on the shelf.
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
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Posted Mon Jun 29 00:00:00 EDT 2009
This is a "must-read" for history lovers. It is a well written and riveting true story from the first page. Those who have never heard of the Armenian holocaust should educate themselves by reading this book.
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.Not too many people know of the Armenian Genocide that happened even before the Jewish Holocaust. I definitely didn't. My fiance', whose family is Armenian, insisted I read this book. She read it back in High School and said it was an amazing and really emotional story. I picked it up just before I left for a 2 day business trip. I ended up reading the book in a night. The was completely captivating. The author chose to write the story from the first-person account of one of his relatives that lived through the incident. The pacing of the story really holds you. I definitely recommend this book to anyone that who is looking to find out more about the Armenian Genocide. Or even if you just want to read an amazing story of courage and hope.
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Posted Sat Aug 09 00:00:00 EDT 2008
This book above all others really makes you think. Of just how spoiled we really are. I don't have any personal connection to it, but being the baby I am I still got tear eyed. Vahn's story really makes you appreciate this day and age. If you would love to read up on any other genocides other than the holocaust this book will tell a tale you can't forget.
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Posted Sun Jun 29 00:00:00 EDT 2008
I am 1/2 Armenian, and I wanted to know more about the Armenian Holocaust, in which my grandparents survived. This book brought tears to my eyes, I couldn't put it down, and read it in one day. It was thrilling, and touched me so deeply. A book worth reading!
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Posted Thu Feb 28 00:00:00 EST 2008
This book was one of the best books I have ever read. It is not a light book, but it captivated, frightened, and profoundly affected me. Most young people have never heard of the Armenian Holocaust but after you read this book, you will never forget it. A touching story of a boy trying to survive through one of the most grusome and frighting times of history. You will see life in a different way after reading this book.
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Posted Fri Nov 02 00:00:00 EDT 2007
forgotten fire is a great novel and really describes the period of time the boy went though as a teen. The story was touching and reminded me of the Holocaust period of History.
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Posted Wed Sep 19 00:00:00 EDT 2007
Forgotten fire is a very compelling and romantic story. I am amazed how one boy's life can change so much.
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Posted Thu Jun 28 00:00:00 EDT 2007
Book gave good insight into a relatively unknown part of Armenian HIstory. Before reading this I had little knowledge of the Armenian Genocide. It combined that with a fantastic storyline.
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Posted Wed May 02 00:00:00 EDT 2007
loved it. so awesome, i have been looking for it. It's really good if your thinking about reading it, don't think just read it!
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Posted Sat Nov 11 00:00:00 EST 2006
When I read Forgotten Fire I thought it was great and the story line was soooo tear-jerking at some parts but, Forgotten Fire book was awesome!
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Posted Wed Dec 07 00:00:00 EST 2005
Forgotten Fire is a book that teaches you about what goes on in wars and battles. In this book a boy had every thing and a loving family, but only to have it ripped form him in a flash. The boy loses his family slowly. He first watches his brother get shot to death and his grandmother, his sister posins herself, his other brother dies in his hands, and he never sees his mother again. This boy had to stay low so that know knows how he is and he meets some people that help him. How the author decribes the situations it's like you living what the boy is going through. His pain and the feeling of not belonging. In the end the boy gets on a boat that takes him to an island and he bumps into someone that new his father and he helps the boy to an orphanage.
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Posted Wed Dec 21 00:00:00 EST 2005
It really opens your eyes to intollerence around the world. Met a man who was Armenian and whos Grandmother was living 2 blocks away from the main characters house.
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Posted Mon Nov 21 00:00:00 EST 2005
This book had a bit of a slow start but once I finished the first few chapters I was hooked. The author did a great job with the novel, the only thing I didn't like was how quickly the book jumped around. All in all though it was a great read.
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Posted Thu Nov 10 00:00:00 EST 2005
The book Forgotten Fire was an excellent book. It was the type of book that you wanted to keep reading the second you openend it up. After reading this book I realized life isn't that bad for all of us right now in life. Forgotten Fire is about a war and the harsh things they did to the prisoners. I would highly reccomend reading this book, Forgotten Fire.
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Posted Fri Oct 07 00:00:00 EDT 2005
This book is very interesting. It tells about a very important part of the world history but at the same time which is very unknown by a lot of people. By reading it, you not only entertain yourself (even if it is not very funny, but with a theme like this, what book could be funny?) but you learn a lot about how lasted the Armenian genocide in 1915-1918, and how it is so like the Jew genocide, but was in the dark for very long, not like the Jew genocide. During the reading, you feel really sorry for the boy, but it is so well written that you don't want to close it, even if it is very sad at some moments.
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Posted Wed Oct 12 00:00:00 EDT 2005
This book has to be one of my favorites ever! I like how Adam Bagdasarian showed Vahan's feelings throughout the book, making it feel like you were experiencing what he was going through along side him. It was hard to put this book down, once you started. This is a great book to read, and I recommend everyone to read it!
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Posted Sun May 15 00:00:00 EDT 2005
I love this book! It's very sad, though. This is a very good book to learn about the Armenian genoicide, first-hand...even though it's fiction. It is well-written and you could understand Vahan's pains and losses.
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Posted Thu May 12 00:00:00 EDT 2005
The book was a good book, don't get me wrong but it had some really dry points that made me question wether to keep reading but i did and it ended being a really good book but those like 3 dry points of 20 pages each but it was a very good book
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Posted Thu Apr 28 00:00:00 EDT 2005
This story is so touching and unbelievable. I don't think I can compare another book to anywhere near to this one that is on genocide and survival.
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Overview
A National Book Award Finalist.
In 1915 Vahan Kenderian is living a life of privilege as the youngest son of a wealthy Armenian family in Turkey. This secure world is shattered when some family members are whisked away while others are murdered before his eyes.
Vahan loses his home and family, and is forced to live a life he would never have dreamed of in order to ...